


Dance Like a Greek, Make my Heart Beat

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Belly Dancing, Dancing, Festivals, Greek Festival, Implied YumiKuri - Freeform, M/M, Teasing from afar, Wine in shotglasses, but fuck it, church event, connie and sasha are so in love it makes everyone want to puke, jeans a big flustered baby who never got to watch some anime, marco is truly a fucking sinnamon roll, no clear top or bottom so you can choose who you think is gonna top/bottom, really there shouldnt be belly dancing at one of those, some side springles, that needs to be a tag, ymirs kind of a fucking thug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean, along with Ymir, is dragged to some church event of Connie's girlfriend's. She's going to be dancing to Greek music and Connie demands to share the view. However, Jean gets a little caught up in someone else... Specifically a boy... With big, chocolaty eyes... An incredibly flexible body... And the most tip top seduction skills Jean has ever come across.</p><p>Ymir's not paying attention, either. There's a blondie on stage, too, and she really knows how to dance.</p><p>But that's okay. Sasha has Connie and his stupid, sappy comments. That's all she needs, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance Like a Greek, Make my Heart Beat

**Author's Note:**

> I AM THE BIGGEST PILE OF TRASH  
> JSUT THROW ME AWAY ALREADY
> 
> so basically i just worked on this for over 6 hours just to get it done in one night  
> and im not sure if i do/dont want to continue it
> 
> so i might
> 
> my beta will look over the original doc at some point so i might edit out the mistakes. if you see any, tell me
> 
> anyway rated mature since there's a suggestive scene in there, but im not sure if that's enough? its not like its flat out porn so

Connie had somehow convinced both Jean and Ymir to come and watch his girlfriend dance at the Greek festival her church was holding. Jean had been told that that he _had_ to come and celebrate and that there was nothing better that Jean was going to be doing on a Friday afternoon anyway- which was a lie, he always could start that anime he was told was really good or something. Ymir, Jean’s roommate, had tagged along at the offhand comment of wine and cute girls. Her two favorites.

 

Jean gave in, telling them that he only agreed if Connie drove and paid for his food ( _and_ gas). So, with Ymir throwing on her leather piece of trash she called a jacket and grabbing a pack of cigarettes, he was shoved out the door and into the backseat of the car. Apparently, “whiney ass crybabies” get the backseat. He was going to get the most expensive fucking food on the menu.

 

After Connie’s dumb Jeep- some huge, doorless hunk of metal that was painted an ugly shade of orange that burned the eyes of anyone who glanced at it- was parked on a grassy hill beside the tent the festival was going to be held at (it was going to rain, it seemed), they started on their way around the fencing that surrounded the parking lot. It was a long and truly unnecessary walk, but it was there to get people to have to pay- which Connie smirked at and made Jean pay for himself, since he never said anything about the entry fee- to get in. Once they had paid for themselves, they started towards the long ass food line, a line that went all the way around the large, long tent.

 

Before they could get there, a girl in a red and white dress came bouncing up to the three of them, her golden necklace jangling with each step. Jean recognized her- Sasha- he had met her a couple of times before, but they had never really gotten to know each other. She hugged Connie and stepped away, hand sliding down his back to grab at his hand, “Oh, good! I knew it was the right call to have three seats saved. Jean,” she turned to him, smiling and eyes twinkling almost audibly, “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

 

Jean choked a little, turning a horrified look to Ymir, the only person who could probably be suggested as so, who only looked bored with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. Connie laughed, leaving Sasha bewildered as Ymir reached forward to kick him harshly in the shin, effectively shutting him up. “Even if I was into men,” drawled the girl with a single glance at Jean, “I definitely wouldn’t be with scrawny punks like this little bitch.”

 

Sasha’s eyes widened in shock and Jean shoved Ymir, earning a dark cackle as she righted herself again. “She’s a friend,” Connie explained and after a moment, Sasha was fine again, dragging them to the front of the food line. She explained to the venders that they were with her, so they could cut in line to get whatever they desired (though, they still had to pay). After everyone got their food- Jean with the most costly as promised- and settled into their seats at the front and began to start eating, as the show was going to start within a few minutes.

 

Ymir told them that she was going to grab some wine and that they better not wait up. Rolling his eyes, Jean dug into his lamb and unlocked his phone, glancing at the time. Sasha said 7:30 was the time their dance, so they only had to wait about four minutes. He might as well actually look into that anime he was told about.

 

Two and a half minutes later, Ymir came back, five small paper cups about as tall as her pointer finger balanced on a small tray, all of assorted colors. Looking up from his phone, Jean frowned as she slowly sat down, as to not spill them. “Weren’t those like, five bucks? Wouldn’t they be bigger?”

 

“You’d fucking think,” she snorted, gulping down a cup like it was a shot, “But apparently not.”

 

“I can’t believe you just blew twenty-five dollars on some wine that wasn’t even enough to fill a solo cup.” Connie said, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

 

Shaking her head, Ymir pulled out a credit card between two fingers, taking another shot of her wine before tossing it at his lap, “I swiped your card when you were getting handsy with ponytail.” He opened his mouth to speak, brows furrowing, only for her to shake her head again, “And if you can beat me in Mario Kart tonight, I’ll pay you back double.”

 

“Fine,” growled the bald man, eyes narrowing, “But I pick the road.”

 

“‘Kay,” she nodded, shooting her third paper cup. “But none of that dirt road shit. Do one that we don’t play a lot.” Crumpling her used cups and putting them off to the side, Ymir began to take small sips of her fourth one.

 

Snorting to himself, Jean shook his head, turning away from the two of them.

 

By the time the dance had started, with a loud voice on a microphone talking for a good two minutes beforehand, Ymir was a little bit tipsy. She complained about the wine not being that strong, but after three cups she definitely wasn’t full out sober. Her leers were a little less nasty and a little more giddy, her laugh a tad bit breathier, but otherwise, still her usual self.

 

Connie was focused on Sasha’s sashaying on stage, eyes trained on only her. It wasn’t even like a focused look, like he was trying to make it obvious how he was staring at her, but in a way that everyone knew he was, but he was the one who wasn’t entirely conscious of it. Close to how people describe when someone gets caught staring at someone from across the room, and then teased about it. Though, Connie wouldn’t be teased. If anything, everyone would be happy that he was happy, even just watching her swirl around.

 

Though the dancing was cool and everything, Jean was a little more focused on their outfits. The women has on long maroon dresses with a white strip from the middle down to the bottom on the front. They seemed to have a white underskirt as well, as it spread beneath their dresses, only visible with each skip as they held hands and arms and wove themselves in tight circles. Around their waists was a tightly knotted white material, almost like a scarf. He wasn’t sure what to call it. All of them had on black, strapped heels, and a gold necklace that looked like a string of bound, miniature, golden plates. They had similar earnings to their necklaces and a cloth matching the red of the dress wrapped around their hair. The longer hair of the girls could be seen poking out of them, but just barely. A few of them had make up, but it seemed most of them didn’t bother.

 

Halfway through the song, the men came out. They all had boots that went up to just below their knees, as well as white leggings and an almost kilt-like skirt that was plain white, but tended to flounce as they danced. Around their waist they had long, tied materials, too, but theirs were deep reds instead. They had long sleeved, white shirts with black vests over them. Under the vests were colorful, sleeveless tank tops, that’s style ranged with each boy. To top them all of, each one had a black had- close to a fez, but larger, and plain, stretched over their heads, covering most of their hair.

 

The male’s dances were more detailed, as they took turns kicking and dropping to their ankles, fast and cleanly executed. The girl’s moves seemed to be mostly to do with their outfits, as they spun around and shook their handkerchiefs, but they didn’t do much _dancing_.

 

Somewhere in the second song, a man walked to the front of the stage and jumped on top, kicking his leg out with more flexibility than Jean could even process. There was some wolf whistling behind them, but the man who had just entered the stage seemed to pay it no mind other than a simple, cheery smile. He stepped in, right in rhythm with the dancing, and took his place in the circle of the other dances. He was quite tall, as was the man that jumped up after him, however not lifting his leg. He, the second one, seemed to already be sweating, a little nervous, and tended to stay towards the back as he did the dances of the other men, leaving the spotlight to the first of the late joiners.

 

Jean found his eye caught by the dark locks of hair that fell out of the man’s hat and his bright smile, that never dropped as he took the hands of some of the women on stage, swaying with them. They seemed to like him and almost swooned when he swung them around a few times. He did the same to a few of his male dance partners as well, being no less bold in his spinning. From the front, Jean could see that he had freckles, loads of them, scattered over his fingers and the back of his neck, though on his face, they seemed to be grouped in one small circle on each cheek.

 

Several times throughout the dance, Jean found himself accidentally making eye contact with the chocolaty brown eyes of the man he was watching so intently. He would always look away the second he realized he had gained the other’s attention, glancing at him until he was sure that he no longer had the brunette’s attention. See, Jean really loved watching him dance. He looked so happy and his moves were so smooth and they _flowed_ , it was mesmerizing to see, really. He just didn’t want to be acknowledged for his desire to see it.

 

One woman broke her dancing routine to grab a paper cup, full of water, and brought it to the man, who stopped dancing as well, and thanked her quietly. The other dancers, noticing their actions, began to move around them, forming a half circle, with the view to the audience. The girl stepped back and started to blend in, swaying with the others.

 

Taking a drink from the cup, he drank only half of it before he set the cup on his forehead and slowly bent his knees, bringing himself to the ground, as if he was playing a game of limbo while in place. He continued to slowly bring himself down until his back was flat against the floor, before he brought himself back up. Not a single drop of water was spilled during his little trick.

 

Afterwards, he handed the cup to the girl from before as the other tall man stepped in front of him, both facing each other so their sides were to the front of the stage. The dancer that Jean was watching jumped up and wrapped his legs around his dance partner’s waist, his arms limp against his torso.

 

(Jean couldn’t help but imagine, perhaps, what if he was the one to be the helper? What if they were alone, with his legs wrapped around Jean’s own waist, staring down at him?)

 

Taking the cup from the other girl, he leaned back just a little and set the cup back on his forehead, lowering himself again slowly. He continued inching downwards and back until he was perpendicular to his partner, before he made his way back up, taking the rest of the water from the cup and drinking it before handing the empty cup to the girl. His partner let go and he dropped to the ground, gracefully. Taking a bow amongst the loud clapping that had started, his grin grew as he wiped the sweat off of his face and neck with his hat, before looking at Jean.

 

With a single wink, he flung it towards him, only for it to go farther than expected and fall into the hands of some other row, who let out an excited shriek.

 

Jean tried not to feel envious of that either.

 

After the second dance ended, the dancers filed away, the loud voice telling the crowd that some of them would be back in seven minutes or so for some belly dancing. Ymir perked up at that and Jean grinned slyly to himself as he watched her relax into her seat, trying to act like she didn’t just get excited at the thought of seeing some girls dance slowly and sensually in revealing clothing.

 

A minute and a half later, Sasha bounded out and collapsed in Connie’s lap, jewelry and clothing that had been covering her hair gone, slipping off her shoes as she snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, cooing about how beautiful she was on stage, that he loved her performance so much. She laughed at him, hitting him on the arm with her shoes as she called him a sap, but told him that she loved him, too.

 

The other two shyly looked away, trying to ignore the romantic talk of the others, even if they were hushed and pretty quiet for most couples and they lovey dovey speak.

 

Throughout the seven minutes they were waiting, Connie and Sasha weaned off the cutesy talk and instead held conversations with Ymir and Jean, mostly about the dance and the outfits- mostly Jean and Sasha’s inputs there. When the topic was brought up, Jean looked closer to see that there was criss cross, gold stitching on the sides of Sasha’s dress, and there was flower-like patterns on the hem of her underskirt. Their clothing was a lot more thought out than he originally saw.

 

It wasn’t long before the loud voice told them that the belly dancers were starting. Ymir squirmed visibly in her seat, biting back a grin at the news. Jean nudged her with a smirk, only to receive a punch in the thigh at the action. He took that as a warning to just watch the show.

 

The color theme seemed to be blue, as many of the girls that came sauntering out had differing styles of their outfits, but all of them were blue. One girl, the one he noticed that Ymir immediately took a liking to, had a fancy one herself. She was shorter than the rest, with silky, blonde hair that went down her back a little past her shoulders. She had many bands and bracelets, as well as jewels that adorned her thin, floor length skirt. Noticing that Ymir was too busy drooling over her, Jean leaned forward to ask Sasha for her name.

 

“Oh, the petite, blonde? Her name is Christa. She only does the belly dancing.” Sasha told him, attracting the attention of Ymir, only for a second. Her words in reply came in a daze.

 

“She’s a goddess.”

 

Sasha chuckled at that, “She sure does dance like one.” Jean sighed in relief after he realized what Ymir had flat out said to a religious person at a _church held event_. He was glad Sasha didn’t seem bothered.

 

Men started to come in from the back, just as Jean turned back to the stage. They were in blues as well, though their outfits were very similar instead of varying, like the women’s. They had long, chained necklaces and bangles, as well as a long, drifty skirt. It was a simple design, but it fit the dance and song well. There were only a few male dancers, of course, but Jean was surprised to see any men dancing at all.

 

However, it caught his attention that one of them was the guy he had been ogling earlier. Shirtless, showing more freckles under the certainly dimmed down lights, his smile was still there, though it seemed to be more of a smirk than anything. He was certainly one hell of an actor, as he put effort into rolling his body, making the drag of his toned stomach flick purposefully towards the audience, fingers seductive as he tugged at his black locks.

 

He was good.

 

Jean had to cross his legs.

 

Even Christa, who was amazing, seemed more focused on dancing rather than eyefucking the people watching her. She didn’t frown, but she didn’t smile as she bunched her hands in her hair and twitched her hips. She didn’t bite her lip (like Jean’s favorite dancer had just started doing), only furrowing her eyebrows as she slid her digits down her legs, on the insides of her thighs, and to her knees before dragging them back up.

 

Jean found himself instead looking for the man who connected with his viewers, liking his performance better.

 

The thing was; when he finally found him, he had to look away again. The man was already staring at him.

 

He quickly turned his attention to his lap, instead, where he desperately wished for the eyes he imagined he could feel move their burning gaze somewhere else. Glancing up, he saw the man snap as soon as he had Jean’s attention. That caught him, reeling him in further, unable to look away. His smirk widened as if he knew that Jean couldn’t stop staring at him.

 

Once he had Jean’s attention, he widened the distance between his legs with each step, and kept his eyes on Jean as he plucked at the hop of his own skirt. Jean felt his mouth go dry when the dancer’s lips parted and began to slowly mouth the lyrics to the song at him, eyes developing an almost hazy look as he continued to tease and seduce Jean.

 

“You okay there, Jean?” He heard Connie’s words, but he couldn’t look away to see the face that was speaking them. It almost felt like he would be betraying and breaking the stranger’s promise- to look away too early. Before he was given permission.

 

Permission. Oh god. He was so fucked.

 

“I…”

 

Sasha giggled at him and his stutter, “Looks like another one has fallen to the siren’s call.”

 

“Which one is it?” He asked quietly, pointing at the stage. “They are all dancing so close together, I can’t tell which one he’s staring at.”

 

“The tall one over there, the one that’s obviously trying harder,” answered Sasha as she helped him find out which one had caught Jean’s eye, “His name is Marco.”

 

_Marco._

 

 _Trying_ harder _…?_

 

He tuned out the rest of their words and chuckles as he focused again on what _Marco_ and his body were trying to tell him. He knew the end of the song was coming up soon and he didn’t know how many songs the belly dancers would do, but all he knew was that he needed to commit everything about _Marco_ to memory as soon as he could.

 

It ended sooner than he would have liked. Both the belly dance and the song. Since the song was a long one, they only did one of them, apparently. _Marco_ left with a little wave and a crooked smirk, leaving Jean to come to his senses (alongside Ymir), still in a daze. His cheeks felt abnormally hot and he knew for a fact that if he didn’t think of something disgusting real quick, Ymir was going to laugh at him and the tent he had pitched, though he knew she was uncomfortably turned on as well (judging from the way she was shifting in her seat every few seconds).

 

Desperately trying to calm himself and his excessive body heat- which had practically doubled over the course of that song- Jean stared into his lap. In fact, he was so focused on getting himself under control, that he hadn’t even noticed someone kneeling in front of him until warm, bronzed hands set themselves on his knees, startling him into looking up with a sharp gasp.

 

“Did I scare you, cutie?” _Marco_ asked, still in his belly dancing outfit, just without all of the dangling beads and chains. His expression was torn, like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to smirk or to smile, so it tried to do both. “Sorry about that. I just thought I saw you staring a lot, so I wanted to make sure you enjoyed the show.”

 

“ _Marco…_ ” was all Jean could breathe, still in shock that the boy who was taunting Jean earlier with his dazzling good looks and sultry moves, was sitting _there_ in front of him, hands on his legs. _Touching_ him. Calling him _cutie_.

 

“You know my name?” His eyes sparkled and his smirk-smile whatever got bigger, his voice delighted, like he found it _endearing_ that Jean knew his name. He looked up to see Sasha beaming at him and he turned back to the still surprised man in front of him, “Aw. I kind of wanted to introduce myself.”

 

“You still could, you know,” Jean muttered weakly, eyes flickering away. “All I know is your name.”

 

Snapping his fingers, Marco’s smirk seemed to win over when he noticed how quickly it made Jean look back at him. “You could know more, if you wanted to.”

 

Jean nodded instantaneously, though he tried to slow the bobbing down after he realize how quickly he had reacted.

 

“If you let me take you out for dinner, sometime,” continued Marco, who smiled, much more genuine, like the grins of before, when he was on the stage the first time.

 

He nodded again, a little softer than before. Biting his lip, he spoke hesitantly, quietly, “I think I know a good Greek place.”

 

Laughing, Marco’s fingers inched forward just a tad on Jean’s leg. “Do you think you could take me, after I change into my casual clothes?”

 

Smiling too wide to say anything, Jean just nodded again, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I’ll be here.”

 

“Great!” Marco whispered, jumping to his feet and waving, much like he had on stage, before darting through the exits the rest of the dancers had taken when the song had ended.

 

Sighing happily to himself and the prospect of a date with Marco, the hot dancer of Greek music, Jean slouched into his chair, barely not just melting into it. Connie was right, there was no better way he could have spent his Friday evening.

 

Just as he had relaxed and mellowed out, heartbeat slowing to a normal rate- when did it even speed up?- Ymir jammed her elbow into his side, spitting out a sentence that made his ears burn, dirty cackles already pouring from her lips, “At least you already know what he looks like between your legs and on his knees.”

 

So fucked. He was so fucked.

 

**Author's Note:**

> OverMyFreckledBody is my tumblr.
> 
> If you go there and just scramble around through the 'freckled rambles about jm' tag I assure you, you will find the insp for all of this.
> 
> Man, I really wish that the festival I had went to had belly dancing as well...


End file.
